


our secret moments

by swancharmings



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: F/M, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:47:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 15,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24717781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swancharmings/pseuds/swancharmings
Summary: A collection of Darvey smut. That’s really it. Each too short to be its own piece, but I needed a place to compile them.
Relationships: Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Comments: 38
Kudos: 127





	1. Chapter 1

_ I’m spilling wine in the bathtub _

_ You kiss my face _

_— Dress, Taylor Swift  
_

* * *

Donna cradles his cheek, bubbles dripping down his chin and she laughs, taking the glass out of his hand to gulp a generous helping of wine before returning it to him, a coy smile on her lips.

They’re facing each other, legs intertwined and the tub is just barely big enough to fit two full-grown adults — but even if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t matter, because she’s half on his lap anyway, inner thighs rubbing up against his half-hard dick under the swirl of bubbles.

Harvey is engrossed in the rise and fall of her chest, takes a handful of bubbles and drips the soapy water down her sternum, her breasts perfect peaks along each side. He holds them in his hands, feeling their weight, squeezing and he leans forward to flick his tongue over one and she moans slow and deep.

The wine jostles in his hands as she pulls his head down closer to her chest, he bites and she yelps, water sloshing over the side of the tub while she straddles him fully.

Her swollen sex brushes his cock and the wine tips over completely, immersed in the bubbles and Donna snorts with laughter, comments “we’re making a mess” as he curves his palm around her ass and fingers her from behind, hitting her sweet spot and causing her to jerk so abruptly they propel backward and he hits his head on the tile.

“Fuck!” He rubs the back of his skull until Donna’s hands join his, lips pressed to his jawline.

“I’ll kiss it and make it better.”

“I might need more than a kiss,” he pouts good-naturedly.

“Do that again and we’ll see,” she tells him, dragging his hand back down to bury in her folds and oh, fuck, he bites down on her shoulder while she writhes from his touch.

Baths are _much_ more fun with Harvey.

She can deal with the extra mess.


	2. strawberries and cream

_“You and I both know that it’s really strawberries and whipped cream.”_

Of course, he stretches the truth just a bit — the whipped cream was everywhere, on every inch of skin available to nibble and suck, coating the sheets and their tongues and certain _other_ places.

There were no strawberries.

What  was there, in front of his face and recurring in his dreams, were Donna’s perfect breasts, soft mounds of creamy flesh topped with dusty pink nipples that taste a  lot better than the fruit.

His very own strawberries and cream.

He thinks of the solitary freckle next to her left nipple, how gooseflesh rose on her soft skin when he pressed an open-mouthed kiss there; thinks of how it felt to nibble at the undersides, drag his tongue around their circumference; and then he goes farther and a bit more crass and imagines he takes his dick and fucks her chest, imagines her squeezing her breasts around him and quietly grunting her appreciation as his dick taps her neck and leaves a trail of cum down the column of her throat.

He comes fast and messy on his stomach and tries very hard not to blatantly stare at her cleavage the next day.


	3. there’s an indentation (in the shape of you)

Walking in the door, Donna immediately throws down her bag and kicks off her heels with a heavy groan, shuffles down the hallway and — finds herself face-to-face with Harvey on her couch, two glasses of wine and his lap open and inviting. He makes a come-hither motion and damn him, her knees feel weak.

Donna melts at the sight. Just a bit. Before she saunters over with a knowing smile.

“Long day?” he whispers as his lips seek out her throat.

“Mmmmmmm,” she sighs, rolling her hips once she’s settled, hair forming a curtain around them. “You could say that.”

“Wanna make you feel good,” he mumbles and her whole body jolts.

“Please.” It’s meant to be sultry and sure but it comes out shaky, like she’s been waiting all day (maybe she has).

Harvey drags two thick fingers along the edge of her slit, framing her lips through the thin layer of cotton before pressing hard against the sensitive nub.

Then he’s shoving the soaked underwear aside, fucks three fingers deep and she gasps.

It’s not long before she’s riding him, grinding down on his maddening fingers, leaning forward to bite his shoulder and grip the back of the couch to steady herself.

She’s close and Harvey must feel it, because suddenly he’s speeding up, curling the digits against her walls and she bucks into the heel of his hand, her clit deliciously trapped between their bodies and she moans into his neck.

“That’s it baby,” he croons as she tumbles over the precipice, waves crashing in her ears in time to the beat of her heart.

Donna collapses on his chest as her breathing slows, dead weight while his hands run up and down her back.

Then she sits up abruptly and frowns, raising one inquisitive eyebrow.

“ _Baby?_ ”

Harvey shifts under her gaze. “It might have slipped out.”

He looks adorable, though, brows knitted together in uncertainty, and so she kisses him. “I’ll allow it. But only because that was fucking _good_ .”

With a wide grin, he flips them so he’s on top of her. “Let’s see if I can make you forget your own name.”

With his tongue delving into her center, Donna decides he can call her any damn thing he wants so long as he keeps doing this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not totally convinced they would ever use pet names for each other — but this I could see happening, Harvey saying it in the throes of passion, Donna calling him out and Harvey all sheepish, and I had to write it down. Hope you enjoyed!


	4. lucky

The bar is far too noisy and packed but all that fades away once he’s pressed up against her in a dark corner, lips warm and inviting, manicured hands loosening his tie impatiently.

The wool of her blouse is scratchy but her skin is silky soft. Freckles dance along her collarbone, swirling in patterns he wants to memorize; he runs his tongue there, licks along her sternum and down, down between the valley of her breasts, flushed and heaving, reveling in his exploration.

She yanks him up for a searing kiss before a grin breaks out across her gorgeous face and she’s down on her knees.

“I told you,” she hums against his abdomen, making quick work of his fly until he’s pulsing in her hand. “Today’s your lucky day.”

Wine-colored lips close around him and Harvey wakes with a start, panting heavily, fists clutching his sheets instead of her fiery waves.

_ Donna. _


	5. maybe someday

Her hair is curled perfectly, holding its shape throughout the night, during the vows, as he holds her closer than he normally allows on the dance floor.

He can’t help but think about running his fingers through the tight ringlets, watching them stretch and bounce back into place. Loosen the two bobby pins tucking her hair away from her face, golden strands breaking free, mussed and spreading like wildfire across his pillow.

How he could wake up to it, tucked against her side, face buried in a sea of red — slightly sticky from the hair spray, one stubborn curl holding its shape that he twists in his pinky.

How maybe she wakes to the slight tug on her scalp and slides over him, on top of him, kissing every inch of his face in a slow and sweet  good morning.

Maybe she threads their fingers together as she sinks down on him, smiling softly with her eyes closed, ethereal in the early dawn.

She might be topless. She might grant him a full view of her slender, supple body as the sheet falls away from the physical exertion. Maybe he leans forward to capture a nipple, sucking gently, memorizing the taste and comparing it to years prior. Still the same — a perfect blend of sugary and tangy, his tongue curling around it in maddening circles as it hardens.

She might be loud, he thinks, but she also might be quiet. Just a few breathless moans, the sound trapped in her throat as he lazily flicks at her clit, until she  _mmmmm_ s and _Harvey_ s and then he applies the direct pressure that sends her crashing over the edge. 

Then maybe she’ll kiss him, and murmur _good morning_ , groggy and languid in that sex-induced haze.

(He wakes up alone.)

(Maybe he doesn’t want to anymore.)


	6. you once told me

_“Donna, about that time — you once told me...”_

_ ”I don’t care what I once told you!” _

...  
  


“I think I could fall in love with you,” Donna muses as they lay side by side. They’re sweaty and barely touching but curled around each other like parentheses, this moment in time tucked away from all the rest.

Harvey eyes her curiously, thumb stalling on her bare hip.

“If you weren’t such a self-obsessed ass,” she continues. She stares him down like she expects him to argue.

“Me and my ass take offense to that,” he retorts.

“I bet you do,” Donna murmurs before reaching across his thighs to pinch his backside, snickering when he jumps at the contact.

“Love,” he nearly spits the word. “Love’s not my area.”

She says nothing, just meets his gaze across their pillows, sharing solace in the silence.

Finally —

“It could be.”

Harvey sniffs obnoxiously. “Nah.” Sits up and stretches while she admires the view. “Me and my _self-obsessed ass_ are hard to love.”

Shifting onto her knees, Donna scratches her hands down his back towards the subject of their conversation. “Not that hard,” she breathes, coquettish and coy, and his cock twitches on her stomach.

In fact, Harvey’s very easy to love.

_ Too  _ easy.


	7. bra

Her bra is always the first thing to go.

Under her shirt,  with her shirt, once unlatched by his teeth, and sometimes it barely makes it off — hastily shoved up to her collarbone while his mouth attacks her nipples.

Harvey’s a breast man.

And if she didn’t know it all those years ago — from the sheer amount of time he spent eating whipped cream off of them — she certainly knows it now.

The night they got together reinstated this important fact. His hands, his _wonderfully large hands_ , petting them over her camisole again and again and again, causing her bra straps to dangle off her shoulders and the cups to slide down her ribcage.

He could spend all day with his head buried between her breasts. Donna knows this.

(Has _experienced_ this.)

But having her breasts played with has never done much for her before. Not until Harvey. 

His fascination with them turns her the _fuck_ on.

She likes the noise he makes, that  pop as he releases one from between his lips.

She likes how he hums against her, how her wet skin tingles in the cool air when he stops to switch.

She likes the way his thumbs brush the sides delicately before pressing hard into her nipples, and his hungry stare that has her leaking onto the sheets.

Yeah.

She likes it _a lot._


	8. shook me all night long

It’s a pleasant dream. A recurring dream, these days. Legs spread, arms stretched over her head, body aflame as a well-muscled man drives into her with abandon.

Although, lately, it’s not just some handsome stranger.

It’s Harvey.

As much as she tries — and oh, how she tries — not to think of him _in that way_ , her subconscious has no such rule, more than happy to let her imagination run wild.

Sometimes it’s hard and fast. Sometimes it’s gentle and loving.

Sometimes —

Sometimes it’s raunchy beyond belief; the fantasies she tucks far, far away; the ones that are laschivious and vulgar and almost downright shameful.

“You look so fucking pretty taking my cock,” Harvey growls, fingers digging into her thighs while he slams into her.

Donna wakes with a strangled gasp and —

— _fuck_ —

— _completely soaked sheets_.

That’s never happened.

Ever.

Ever, ever.

She struggles to catch her breath, heart pounding in her throat and her thighs sticky and drenched.

God damn Harvey Specter.


	9. locked in me forever

“I looked around...and you weren’t there.”

His dick twitches inside her as if to say _so please don’t go_ and a tiny gasp bubbles in her throat. Her legs wrap around him on impulse, impossibly tighter, and she lifts her chin to search his face.

She’s here now.

She tells him so.

Her fingers map his face, trace lines down his neck to scratch at his back (she strokes the divots where her nails dug into the skin and she shivers, runs her hands over the indents with pride). His hips bump closer still, and she can feel him brush her upper wall, not quite so deep — he’s only half-hard, spent from before — but it’s the closeness she craves right now. Full of him in every way, body hugging his flesh, wet and warm and snug.

Faces so close their noses nearly touch, her nipples still taut and tight and pressed fully against his chest. His fingers toy with her hair and she breathes him in, this mix of cologne and sweat and sex, of Harvey, of herself and of him in her bed.

All the while he continues the slow thrusts, jagged, gentle movements that make her spine tingle.

They breathe together. In and out. At the same time he moves. In and (barely) out.

As one.

Whole.

Complete.

When he rolls away she immediately feels the loss. Cold and hollow, searching for him.

But his hand finds hers and he nuzzles her cheek and she knows they have forever.

He’s here now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will probably end up writing 93747273 different versions of this scene, just so we’re clear.


	10. tease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains (consensual) BDSM. Please proceed with caution.

They’re teasing tonight, tongues exploring and fingers probing until she’s soaked and he’s velvet steel. Harvey takes his cock and traces it along her slit, like he normally does to ready himself, but this time he goes a bit further; he taps the hardened shaft on her sweet flesh, pink and supple and glistening, and her shuddering breath says enough.

Donna looks up through hooded eyes and pants,

“Slap me.”

It’s whispered so low that he asks her to repeat it, just to be sure.

She takes his hand in hers. Guides it to her mound.

“Slap me. Here.”

Holy  _ fucking  _ shit _. _

Harvey knows she likes the pleasure-pain — when he winds his fingers in her hair and pulls at her scalp, or when he scratches down her back, or digs his thumbs into her hipbones almost possessively.

But this...

Donna nods at his bewildered expression, and she’s confident,  _ sexy as hell _ , rubbing wantonly against his palm. He gives her aching sex a few experimental pats, gently at first while he holds her gaze, dark and wanting. She’s panting and squirming and her soft whimpers spur him on — he slaps hard, the wet, sharp sounds and her heavy moans shooting straight to his dick, precum dripping on her porcelain thigh.

His hand is slick with her arousal and her pussy is red and swollen when she finally grabs his thick length, positions it at her entrance and he pinches her clit as he fills her in one deep stroke.

Donna comes from that alone, expelling his name in jumbled cries. He massages her breasts, tenderly sucks on each nipple while her heart thrums wildly beneath them.

She gulps in air and he stalls, stroking her cheek while she returns to him, a small smile framing her face. He kisses it, absorbs it into his own, nibbles on the corners of her mouth like they hold a secret just for him.

He thrusts again, tip of his cock bumping her cervix and she asks him what he wants, her sultry stare and roaming hands igniting his soul.

“You,” he murmurs into her ear, and she rolls them over and gives him just that.


	11. only bought this dress so you could take it off

“Harvey —“ she pauses while he bites down on her clothed nipple — “You do realize that I can’t go out like this, right?”

“Just...” He grunts, distracted by licking a line straight up her cleavage, “...you spilled some water on it, that’s all.”

“Harvey.” Donna pushes him away and he frowns, licking his lips. She gestures to the twin dark circles on each breast. “ _This_ is not accidental.”

He’s grinning like a loon. She should smack him. Instead, she kisses him and sighs into his mouth when his palm rubs her nipple hard, kneading the flesh before his head dips once again. His tongue flicks and sucks so hard her toes curl, the fabric now drenched.

If she’s honest with herself, she never intended to leave the house with this dress, anyway.

(Let alone leave the house at all.)


	12. make you feel like you never did

The minute Harvey’s hand floats down her waist, she’s a goner.

That damn pinky, tracing the crease of her thigh, inching closer and closer but _not close enough._

All the while she’s gripping his shirt like it’s the only thing tethering her to this world.

Then he cups her in his palm and she moans long and low. The heat from his hand sends her reeling, his thick middle finger stroking up and down her wet center, over her pants and her underwear and it’s not enough.

She knows, after tonight, it will never be enough.

Donna drags her lips across his, soft sighs and whimpered pleas, everything she wants him to do to her conveyed in her wide eyes.

Two fingers push hard into her clit at the same time his teeth find her neck and her hips buck in earnest, clutching at his shoulders. Skillful circles on the tight bud, fingers curling over her entrance that have her trembling in seconds, the pressure unbearable until he finally shoves his hand in her pants and rubs her mercilessly; the hot digits pressing into soaking lace give way to a tsunami, crashing and breaking, then two fingers plunge inside and she’s knocked under all over again.

His fingers retract, smear her come on her slack lips for her to taste and his eyes are darker than she’s ever seen them, but beneath that veneer of lust lies a hopeful and awestruck gaze that makes her heart turn over in her chest.

Halfway off the table, her forehead meets his and she clasps their hands together to bring him inside her orbit — where he’s been for the last fifteen years, but this time, he’s here physically, spinning concentrically with her and right where she has always wanted — needed — him to be.


	13. first times

“Senior prom,” Donna recounts, draped on Harvey’s chest as they lie awake. Nights like these are treasured; talking about everything and nothing, basking in each other’s comfort, catching up on years of lost moments and memories.

Harvey traces mindless patterns on her hip. “Prom king?”

Donna snorts. “Yeah, right. I went with my next-door neighbor. I saw my friend getting felt up in the bathroom and decided that if Jeffrey wanted to fuck me that night, then he could.”

No-nonsense Donna, even then. Harvey smiles in the dark.

“Where?”

She groans a little. “Back seat of his LeSabre.”

“LeSabre, Donna? Really? I need to show you a good time.” He can’t help but smirk and mentally pick out at _least_ three cars he’d like to —

She shoves his shoulder in response. “Shut up.”

“Tell me he at least made you come.”

“Nope. It lasted all of two minutes. His Metallica CD was digging into my back.”

“Asshole,” Harvey states plainly.

“It’s okay. He was a jerk. His date bailed last-minute and that’s why he asked me.” Donna shrugs, no harm, no foul, and Harvey wonders if Jeffrey knows he lost the goddamn lottery.

Her fingers trail up his sternum, tickling his jaw. “I bet you were a real gentleman.”

“Of course I was.” Puffs out his chest just a bit to make her laugh. He succeeds.

“Okay, spill.” She rests her chin on his shoulder, settling in.

He clears his throat. “Summer before college. Abby’s parents were away and she invited me over.”

“Ooh, sneaking around, I like that.”

“Well,” he continues with a grimace, “she told me she was breaking up with me, but she wanted to, as she put it, say goodbye properly.”

Donna wrinkles her nose. “You fell for that?”

He gives her a look. “I was eighteen and horny as fuck, Donna, of course I fell for it.”

“Fair point. Continue.”

He lets his hand drift down her back. “So we did it.”

Donna pops her head up, indignant. “That’s it? ‘So we did it’? That’s all I get?”

“There’s nothing more to tell.”

She’s scrutinizing him. _Uh oh._

“Nuh-uh. There is. Come on, Harvey, please? I want to hear all about how you were the _perfect_ gentleman,” she goads him, tapping his nose for good measure.

He shifts unconsciously beneath her. Donna’s eyebrows shoot up.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing!” She narrows her eyes and he swallows. “Okay. I thought — I _may have_ —  the room was pitch black. I went to...finger her, and it almost went —“

“ _Harvey!_ ”

He’s mortified. “I’d never touched a woman before!”

Donna presses her lips together, evidently trying to hold back laughter. “You graduated high school, right? Biology is a required course.”

“Donna!”

She lapses into silent giggles at his outburst, shoulders shaking and chest heaving. He sulks silently.

“Oh, honey,” she simpers, caressing his cheek, “she _definitely_ told her friends all about that one.”

He rolls his eyes, perturbed. “I know. Trust me, she may have been my first, but I certainly wasn’t _her_ first, and I did not live up to the hype.”

Donna sobers enough to look him in the eye, twist her fingers through his hair. “I’m sure it was fine.”

“It was. She didn’t seem to mind, just grabbed my hand and guided me to the... _correct_ entrance.”

Donna lets out a snort and a mumbled “sorry” and he loves that sound more than life itself, can’t help but chuckle quietly into her hair.

“But _when_ I did it right...I did it _right_ ,” Harvey says, punctuating this point with a squeeze of her ass. Donna rolls over onto her side, arm still looped around his waist.

“I bet you did.” She looks up at him through her lashes and Jesus, if it wasn’t three in the fucking morning...

“And I’ve only gotten better.” He leans in to kiss her, the words _smug bastard_ smushed against his lips. She pulls away with a grin.

“Guess I need to thank Abby then. Otherwise you wouldn’t know my ass from my elbow.”

Harvey attacks her neck with kisses, explains in perfect detail just which parts of her he _knows_ and loves and their shared laughter morphs into soft sighs and swallowed moans.


	14. poetry in the morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Prompted by 1) SGR herself, 2) hellcsweetie,“I’d like you to apologize in cursive between my thighs” (it’s not this at all, but hopefully it’s better).
> 
> Thank you to Alyssa for the beta, as always, I love you more!

Dexterous fingers glide down her stomach, goosebumps rising in their wake. Donna stretches slightly, watches the patch of morning sunlight trickle over her belly button, swimming with the shadow of Harvey above her.

The tip of his index finger meets her soaked curls, gently prodding, and she parts her legs almost immediately.

“ _ I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair, _ ” Harvey rumbles against her cheek, drags his lips down to cover hers. She hums and smiles and loops her arms around his neck while the pad of his thumb slips inside her heat.

“Neruda?” she whispers when he lets go, and he nods; he’s neither bashful nor hesitant as he holds up the book he’d snagged from her nightstand; just content, present, focused entirely on her.

He rests the worn paperback on her stomach while his hand dips lower between her folds, canvassing, cataloguing.

“ _ Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps. _ ”

Here, he presses an open-mouthed kiss to each breast, the resulting tug on her nipples exquisite and she sighs and arches closer. The hand sprawled on her stomach remains firm as she wriggles underneath.

“ _ I hunger for your sleek laugh _ —“ lips on the column of her throat, sucking greedily — “ _ your hands the color of a savage harvest, hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails... _ ” Harvey places delicate kisses to each knuckle before he threads their fingers together, palmer’s kiss; a prayer all their own.

Then he slides down her body, tongue delving in the pockets of her hips, thumbs spreading her outer lips before his mouth closes around her aching clit.

His lips move against her sensitive sex, and she soars.

“ _ I want to eat your skin like a whole almond _ —“ he sucks on her labia, “ —  _ I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body _ —“ he laps at the pool of arousal and her juices cling to his bottom lip, the sticky string glistening and stretching as he retreats, “—  _ the sovereign nose of your arrogant face, I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes. _ ” He leaves her thighs and she whimpers, drops a kiss to the bridge of her nose and each fluttering eyelid before she rubs herself purposefully over his pelvis, wet and writhing and wanting, reminding him where he’s needed until his mouth greets her there once again.

“ _ I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight, hunting for you, for your hot heart, like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue. _ ”

His mouth smooths around the foreign syllables, melting them like molten fire, and she’s gone as soon as he follows the phrase with a low growl of  _ Donna _ , face buried, lips grinding, teeth scraping — she explodes in stars and desert heat and an oasis of him.

Her eyes close as his palm curves around her cheek, settles her nose next to his and murmurs, “I didn’t know you were a poetry fan.”

His soft breath of laughter tickles her ear before he answers, hoarse and honest.

“I’m a Donna fan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem is “Love Sonnet XI” by Pablo Neruda, I do not own any of the italicized words, they belong to him.


	15. the situation

_ “So what do you say that you go home and you change into that armor and you get ready to fight for Robert's good name?” _

Harvey nods at her, stands a little taller and a little prouder and Donna can’t help but tilt her chin up to kiss him goodbye, savoring the last vestiges of their lazy, happy,  _ uncomplicated _ morning.

She pulls back and suddenly he’s grinning that impossible grin.

“I don’t think I can leave like this,” he whispers conspiratorially, and her eyes track to his crotch.

“Seriously?” she deadpans. “You can’t hold out a few more hours?”

He holds out his hands. “Twelve years, Donna.”

There’s something in his voice and on his face — light and carefree and unburdened — that melts her resolve, and she finds herself whispering “come here” and guiding him onto the couch, straddling him and deftly unzipping his fly.

She hums, toying with him over his boxer briefs. “Should I be worried that you’re like this when Louis was standing here not five minutes ago?”

Harvey groans. “Please don’t mention Louis while we’re doing this.”

_ This. _ It sends a pleasant jolt through her body, shockwaves in her spine, and her lips curl in a smile as she draws him out of his pants, eliciting a low whimper.

“If you wanna know,” his voice rumbles in the space between them, low and intimate, and she shivers. “I’ve been like this all morning.”

She chuffs. “We had sex an hour ago, Harvey.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he grits through his teeth when she gives him a squeeze, “it’s you.”

Her heart stutters and starts up again.  _ This man _ . She bites her lip and focuses all her energy on making this the best morning he’s ever had, because really — this is the best morning  _ she’s _ ever had, hands down, and she’d like to return the favor.

Her hand moves up and down in supple strokes, covering him base to tip and Harvey’s eyes close, head thrown back and she can’t help but lean forward to suck on his Adam’s apple, nipping with her teeth and he grunts.

The twist and pull of her wrist speeds up while her eyes remain downcast, focused on him, heavy and thick in her palm. Deliciously so. Donna runs her thumb over the tip, swirls it around the head with purpose and promise before flicking at his slit, and she knows he’s close when his hips buck beneath her, fucking himself into her hand.

She whips up her top as he comes, painting her stomach and bare breasts in milky white.

“Fuck,” he swears, panting under her while she continues to rub him, flesh reddened from her onslaught and his own bodily high.

Then he’s smushing his nose into her cheek, sucks on the corner of her mouth before pulling her face towards his with both hands, nudging her lips open with his tongue. She sighs, slides further onto his lap and breathes him in; heady and tart and refreshing all at once in his post-orgasmic haze.

Resting heavy on his chest for a minute, she traces his ear with her nose, laughter bubbling in her throat.

“Can you move? Or did I incapacitate you for the next couple of hours?”

He ignores the jab. “I think I need to start every day like that,” he retorts, eyes sparkling.

“We’ll see.” She pats his knee and lifts off him, runs her fingers through his hair before picking up his rumpled suit jacket off the floor.

“Still want me to get dressed?” he riles, but beneath that devil-may-care smirk she catches the tiniest fraction of doubt.

So she folds his jacket carefully, places it on the arm of her couch.

“Tonight, Harvey.” Pushes him towards the door with inevitability. “Tonight.”


	16. mishaps

“Harvey.”

He grumbles incoherently. Donna gives a loving smile, tangling her fingers in his spiky, sloppy morning hair.

“It’s okay,” she soothes.

“This doesn’t happen,” he pouts, perturbed.

She tries very, very hard not to laugh.

“Donna, I’m sorry.” He’s shielding his eyes from her, like he’s ashamed, and her heart skips for him.

Slowly, she peels his hand away from his face.

“Don’t apologize,” she orders, frames his stubbly cheeks with both hands. Looks him dead in the eyes and kisses his nose.

He makes a grumpy face and Donna bites her lip — still trying to diffuse her laughter — while she snakes her hand down to cup his limp dick.

“He’s been working hard recently. I think we can give him a break.” She squeezes him for good measure before trailing her fingers up his chest, tickling the light hairs and moving up his jaw to scratch behind his ear.

Harvey’s eyes close in agony. “Donna,” he whines.

“What?” she asks, letting a giggle escape. _Damn it._ The last thing she wants is to embarrass him further. It’s just... _funny,_ that he’s so put out by this...setback.

He sighs, clearly unsettled. “I just... I don’t want you to think...” he trails off, eyes still screwed shut.

She blinks in confusion before it clicks. “Harvey,” she says plainly. “You can barely keep your hands off me. You practically maul me every night. Believe me, I don’t think that.” Her voice softens, lips nuzzling his neck. “You have nothing to worry about.”

He cracks one eye open.

“I love _you,_ not your dick,” she continues in amusement.

Harvey’s eyebrows shoot up. “You don’t love my dick?” he asks, a smirk forming on his lips.

Donna rolls her eyes. “Well, he’s a _part_ of you, so of course I have to love him,” she teases.

He pinches her side and she squirms. “Have to?”

“Mmm. Well. He does earn his keep.”

“Usually.”

She bites his lip, soothes it with her tongue before sucking his own into her mouth, and there’s telltale movement beneath the sheet, the pressure welcome on her thigh.

Donna grins. _“Always.”_


	17. against the wall

Harvey’s broad shoulders pinning her hips to the wall are her only form of support. She grasps at his hair for purchase as her head slams back, the pain dulled by the sparks from his tongue snaking between her thighs.

Gentle laps give way to searing pressure on her flesh, blood pounding and pulsing its way to the heat of her core. His strong muscle flattens, suffocating her eager clit before he pulls back, nose digging into the crease of her thigh as he breathes her in. His tongue darts out for another quick taste, sucking on the sensitive skin of her outer lips and tracing between the folds. 

Harvey pokes lazily at the back of her knee until she lifts it, tucks her leg behind his head, effectively trapping him against her center. He blows sweet kisses on every bare inch of her until she’s trembling and making noises she can’t even categorize.

Thumbs spread her wide open, press her clit like it’s a mystery button and he’s won the prize before his lips reclaim it. The suction draws her entire soul from her body down into his, molding them together as he starts to eat her like he’s starving. She helps him along, grinds her hips all over his face and giving him an all-access pass.

One last, solid lick sends her flying. The tip of his tongue flicks incessantly on the tight bud as he holds her hips steady, and she slides against his hot mouth as he cleans her up, kissing a perfect circle around her sore sex to finish.


	18. pink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> krystalsteph prompted “donna and harvey try something new”... does this count? ;) (this would not leave my mind)

“Please?”

“No.”

Donna points at him, a sharp rebuttal already on her tongue. “You told me you’d be open to it.”

“One time! I never explicitly agreed to anything.” He points a finger right back.

“No, you said, and I quote, ‘sure Donna, if we’ve exhausted everything else we can possibly do.’”

Harvey’s eyebrows shoot up. “And we have?!”

“As of right now? Yes, we have.” Annoyance gives way to pleading within a millisecond. “Harvey...”

His shoulders sag in uncertain defeat. Donna’s excitement by this prospect is almost enough to make him accept his decision, but not quite.

“I still don’t understand why you want to do this so badly,” he scoffs before rolling up his pant legs and stripping off his socks.

Donna holds up the bottle of nail polish in front of her face with a wicked grin. “Because I’m bored, and I already did mine, and did I mention I’m _bored?_ ” She leans down to survey his bare feet. “Now hold still.”

He scrutinizes her as she works, delicately brushing each nail in the gaudiest shade of pink he’s ever seen.

“You think pink’s my color?” he asks with distaste.

“Oh, I _know_ pink’s your color.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Donna just giggles quietly, dabbing at his pinky toe.

But it tickles, and he shifts, and suddenly it looks like he’s just stepped in a melted Care Bear.

“Donna!”

“You moved!” she shouts back, wiping furiously at the sticky mess. “I said hold still!”

“Well, it tickles! You know I don’t like my feet touched,” he grumbles.

“I know,” she mocks solemnly and he makes a face.

“Just paint.”

“You’re very manly, Harvey.” She dips the brush back in and starts on his other foot.

He snorts. “Yeah, okay.”

“No, really.” Donna sits back on her knees, smiles up at him. “Not many men would be comfortable enough to do this.”

“I’m not comfortable doing this.”

Donna rolls her eyes, bends back down to continue. “Okay, but — you’re letting me do it.” Her hand trails up his calf to squeeze his thigh, lingering there. “That’s very manly.”

Something stirs low in his groin. “Is it?”

She nods seriously. “Mmmm. Yes. And it’s very sexy.”

Harvey gives a slow grin. “Painting my nails is sexy?”

Her eyelids flutter. “Letting me do it is.”

He barks out a laugh. “You’re so weird. God, I love you.”

“Love me enough that you’ll let me do your fingers?” she goads, overeager.

“We’ll see. Depends what kind of loving I get after these.” He wiggles his freshly polished toes.

“Oh,” her eyes darken in a challenge. “You’re about to get very, very loved.”

Two hours later and she’s forgotten all about Harvey’s toes when her own are trailing up his rock-hard length, and Harvey thinks that maybe he’ll let her do his fingernails after all.


	19. just this morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “In fact, I hammered one out this morning.”
> 
> “Don’t.”

She’s suddenly very, very aware just how much Harvey _hammered out this morning._

His cock heavy on her thigh, prodding her awake whereas Harvey himself was still out cold, nose crushed in her shoulder.

She needed that — time to gather her thoughts, slow her racing brain, recognize that the soft breaths and warm weight belonged to _Harvey_.

“Good morning,” she’d whispered sarcastically under the sheets before she nudged his hips apart, straddled his lap and he blinked awake with that same enamored look. The grin followed, both impish and shy while she guided him between her legs.

He’s _thick_. She watched her body consume him, all the way down, mesmerized when he pulled out and leaving her wondering how it all fit.

But beyond that, only Harvey can fill her that way — sinking so far inside the locks click into place, the gratification intense and blinding.

She can still feel the rush of warm liquid in her center as he finished, in between a kiss so full and so sure she wondered if those twelve years happened at all.

So her look says “behave” but also lets him know — she’ll hammer one out for him any day.


	20. harvey 2.0

Donna never used sex toys.

There just wasn’t a need for them — her fingers were more than enough to bring her to a quick and satisfying release. She was well-acquainted with her body, knew all the tricks and let her imagination run wild.

The night after Harvey and strawberries and whipped cream, she’d tossed and turned and groaned out loud as she shoved her underwear aside to touch herself.

And suddenly, her imagination was no longer enough.

Harvey was... _fulfilling,_ for lack of a better word, and she craved that stimulation, a replication of their connection, and she hated herself for it.

The ad popped up on her laptop the next day. She thought it was the universe playing a sick joke, but once she read the product description, she wasn’t laughing anymore.

Donna told herself it was a practical purchase. A healthy, functioning woman in her late twenties should own a vibrator.

Until she turned it on, pushed it inside and practically felt Harvey on top of her, and she could no longer kid herself.

From then on, she used it whenever she felt particularly...Harvey-less. After a late night at the office, passing glances turning to heated stares; when he winked at her and said “we got ‘em” coming back from a deposition; days where she didn’t see him at all, meeting after meeting or worse — the days he spent in court. Those nights, she pictured herself in his desk chair when he returned, jacket off and tie undone the way she secretly loved; he’d swivel her around so her back was to the door, hook her legs around his shoulders and eat her out until she screamed.

(Those were _good_ nights.)

It filled her up and made her toes curl in conjunction with the memory of his rough voice and calloused fingers.

It was enough.

Or so she told herself.

Years later, he finds it when packing up her apartment, shoved in the back of her drawer.

She gives him a devilish smile and says,

“Harvey 2.0 has nothing on you.”


	21. pretty woman

There’s scotch and  _ Pretty Woman _ and a shared blanket between them, Donna half in his lap and Harvey lost beyond the first five minutes of the film because of  _ Donna half in his la _ _ p. _

And in his old Harvard sweatshirt.

He’s been unashamedly fondling her all night.

“Why are you squeezing my breasts?” Donna finally laughs, pinching his side and Harvey chuckles, continuing to roll his thumbs up and down the soft flesh.

“Because I love them. Especially when they’re in my sweatshirt.” He punctuates this fact with another squeeze and kisses the corner of her smiling mouth.

Donna lifts the material over her head, revealing her full breasts and he immediately devours one, sucks the nipple into his mouth and bites down.

“That’s better,” she moans, twists and pulls at his hair as he blows cool air across the peaks, watches them harden with fascination. Takes both in his hands, kneads and pushes them together, licking at the undersides, nipping at sensitive skin as he frees his cock from the confines of his sweatpants.

He stands, stroking himself while Donna remains sprawled on the couch, naked chest flushed and inviting. Harvey straddles her lap, knees bracketing her hips and takes himself in his hand to trace along the circumference of each breast. Taps his dick on her nipples until they’re raw and chafed, fucks himself between the globes and he hisses at the slight pressure.

She makes a noise in the back of her throat, a needy sound. “Harvey,” she croaks, “more.”

And he knows her well enough by now to know that it’s not a “do more  _ for _ me,” but rather a “do more  _ to _ me.”

So he guides her head down to his cock, lets her take him in her mouth and work him up before he pulls out abruptly and strokes his saliva-coated shaft over her breasts once more, circling each nipple with the head, sticky and dripping before he plunges back in her mouth for a repeat performance.

She’s writhing beneath him, and it’s then that he realizes she’s touching herself — right hand bunched in her underwear, swirling over her clit again and again and her eyes meet his before she leans up to kiss along his neck and whisper —

“Show me just how good you are at releases.”

He knows what she’s asking and that does it — he yanks hard on his dick until it’s abused and spent, infatuated with her parted lips and heaving chest. White-hot stars fizzle behind his eyes at the sight of her strawberry nipples doused in his come, the sticky cream glinting in the low light. Her tongue flicks out to claim a spot where he spilled near her chin and  _ fuck _ _ ,  _ she’s fucking hot.

He moves to kiss her, but she holds up a finger, stopping him in his tracks.

Donna takes that same finger, trails it up and around her breasts, brings it to her lips and sucks it clean.

Harvey watches. While she does the same thing. Again. And again.

And then she’s crawling up his body and sinking down on his revived dick, riding him slowly and purposefully to  _ Dammi tu forza _ _. _

“What happened to Roy Orbison?” he asks absently, brow furrowed at the operatic swell coming from the television.

“Seriously? I let you come on me and  _ those _ are the first words out of your mouth?” Donna stops moving, hands on her hips in mock indignance, and he rubs at her clit to bring her back to their moment.

“Wasn’t it the whole point of this movie?”

“Okay, we’re watching it again.”

“Why?” he asks in between thrusts.

“Because,” she says, “you clearly weren’t paying attention.

“I had my attention on something else. Two very important somethings.” He tweaks her nipple and he can see her lips twitch as she tries very, very hard not to lose her edge.

“Maybe I’ll just focus my attention on something else,” she sighs, rising off his lap with a smirk. Harvey grabs her waist, pulls her back down and she topples onto him with a shriek of laughter.

Harvey flips them so he’s on top, staring her down. “You won’t be saying that when you see what I’ll be  _ paying attention to _ next.”

He starts kissing his way down her body, humming the lyrics as he goes and soon Donna is no longer laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what this is, please forgive me.


	22. on my desk

“Now, we get to celebrate the day you came  _ on _ my desk,” he all but growls into her lips, teeth clashing and tongues bruising.

There’s a flurry of clothes, his tie and her bra and the Tom Ford jacket that falls to a crumpled heap on the floor. Harvey palms her breasts, ghosts his fingers down her ribcage to spread her legs apart, making room for him as he glides inside with minimal effort. Donna bucks wildly beneath him, clutches his shoulders as he bottoms out, stretching and seeking and settling into every crevice of her body.

He licks the pad of his thumb, finds the swollen nub peeking through her folds and presses firmly, and the gasp gets caught in her throat, sticks to the roof of her mouth while he slams into her; a few more flicks of his thumb and then a sudden, sharp tug and twist to her clit breaks the dam. He’s still rubbing her, coaxing her through, and it’s then that something wet and warm floods her senses —  _ and her thighs _ — and Harvey’s low hiss coupled with a curse bitten into her shoulder says it all.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, winded, utterly deflated. He’s jerking inside her still, heart pounding and Donna can’t stop placing kisses all along his collarbone, and his neck, and up towards his ear.

Her legs feel like jelly. Donna wonders how he’s faring, can feel his legs shake and so she forces herself off the desk so he can collapse into his chair. She climbs back on his lap, rests her cheek against cool leather and her forehead on sweat-slicked skin.

“Did you...” he asks, faltering, but full of intrigue.

“Yeah.” She’s quiet. Appreciative. Still a bit unbelieving.

“Fuck,” he swears, low and tight and coiling.

She chuckles. “Yeah.” A sweet kiss lands in her hair and she smiles into his neck. “Didn’t think you meant to be so literal.”

“If I say yes, will you still go out with me?”

Donna shakes her head. “Cocky.”

“I am that.”

“Walked right into that one.”

“Sure did.” His arms squeeze her waist.

A few precious seconds pass before she moves, hoisting herself off of him so they can clean up. He takes extra time to smooth the wrinkles that have formed on her dress, and her eyes sting from the gesture.

Happy tears.

A new sensation, especially with Harvey.

Their fingers tangle in the elevator and she thinks of all the new memories they’ll make, all the ones they have yet to celebrate.


	23. nothing to prove

_ Wrap it up, old man. I know you can’t go that long. _

“He’s such a douche,” Harvey grumbles at the text from Mike while sucking on her neck. Donna giggles, pushing him away.

“C’mon, we have to go. We’re already late.”

Harvey doesn’t move, nipping at her pulse point.

“Harvey,” she tries again, arching her neck to seek his lips against her will.

“We have time.” Her bra strap is pushed off her shoulder by his nose, breath tickling the tops of her breasts and she moans.

“I’m going to rock your world.”

Then it clicks.

Donna leans back to frame his face in her hands, resting her forehead against his own. 

“You aren’t seriously taking that to heart, are you? Harvey,” she whispers, “you have nothing to prove.”

“Then let me prove it.” His lips continue their journey across her face, back down between her breasts.

Donna rolls her eyes. _Men._

She reaches forward to grab his phone of the coffee table in spite of his verbal protest. 

“What are you doing?”

The camera captures the corner of Harvey’s shoulder above her, deep red nails digging into his back and the closed curtains behind him.

_ Don’t bother with the extra place settings. _

Harvey raises his eyebrows.

“What was this about ‘rocking my world’?” she jokes, running her toes up his leg.

He pounces and she laughs, full and throaty.

“Just so you know,” he says into her stomach, “we’re not leaving the bedroom tonight.”

“Prove him wrong,” she sighs, fisting her hands in his hair.

It’s a win for her either way.


	24. ride

She rides him.

Hard enough to make her thighs ache and her head swim.

Deep enough that she feels the tip bump her cervix; she can _see him,_ thrusting against her abdomen and it makes her go absolutely carnal.

Grinding on his lap, balls to her ass, she twists her hips to recapture him _just right,_ so her clit scrapes the coarse hair on his pubic bone — she moans, that’s fucking _good_ — and he drives along her front wall.

She uses all her energy to milk his cock, clenching around the rock-hard flesh, velvet heat consuming her from the inside and a noise escapes her throat, one of both satisfaction and desperation.

Donna claws at his shoulders, seeking purchase as she bites her bottom lip, letting go and panting hard, bouncing on his lap, clit throbbing and thumping against his pelvis and _ there it is,  _ spreading like wildfire through her veins, burning across her skin, ablaze in pleasure.

He follows not long after and she continues to take him, all of him, until his cock grows soft and he slips out on the upswing.

She takes the time to relish in their shared ecstasy, slides her folds along his shaft so he can feel it too before dragging her lips across his cheek to meet his open mouth, tongues tangling, noses nudging, legs locking.


	25. high on you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: sex while under the influence (marijuana), proceed with caution. for context, they have only shared one joint, only enough for a buzz.

Donna’s  _giggling_.

It’s a nice sound, definitely, just...unprecedented. All the times Harvey has ever heard her laugh, it’s been quiet chuckles through the intercom, ringing low in his ear, or snorts into her scotch when he’s impersonating Norma. Once, just once, he’d witnessed a full belly laugh — a drunken Mike stumbling into the women’s restroom had Donna in an uproar.

But this is a  _giggle_. High, girlish,  _ flirty _ , dare he think it, and exceptionally loose.

And as he’s feeling quite the same, he comments on it.

She takes the joint right out of his hand for another drag. “I’m having fun. Sue me.”

Harvey grins despite the smoke being blown back in his face.

“You don’t  _ giggle _ .”

“How would you know?” she asks, eyebrow cocked.

“I know you.” It comes out more sincere than it’s meant to.

Donna lies back on the couch with a contemplative hum. “You just have to get me to laugh more.”

It’s a tease and a challenge all in one.

Harvey rises from the chair, crosses in front of the coffee table to sit beside her.

She looks up at him through wisps of hair, disheveled on her forehead and blocking her eyes.

With no warning at all, he tickles her ribs and she gasps, shrieking and writhing.

“S - stop,” she breathes through new giggles, over and over and over again and he keeps going because he wants to hear that sound for the rest of his life.

Eventually his fingers stop tickling and start caressing, brushing lightly up and down her ribcage, halting just shy of her breasts and skirting below her waist.

His mind is hazy and there’s a ringing in his ears as he crushes his lips to hers, parts her thighs with his knee and swallows her moans.

He was wrong;  _ that’s _ the sound he wants to hear for the rest of his life.

Soon they’re rutting like teenagers on his couch; the office is deserted but he’s still not convinced she’d want to be defiled in a room with floor to ceiling glass. So he stands, pulls her with him and turns her around so her back is against the wall, tucked behind his record shelves, and he drags his fingers roughly along her center, pressing and searching.

Donna hikes one leg around his hip, panting in his ear as she unzips him, takes him in her hand and strokes, hard, and he hisses. He’s high on  _ her _ , bunching up her dress to slide home and the second their bare stomachs meet and she sighs, he grabs her ass with both hands and pounds her against the wall, desperate, needy, sloppy.

Her lips are open and drag across his face, and it’s wet and hungry and when she sucks on his bottom lip his knees nearly give out.

He comes first, and blindly he chastises himself for it until he feels her walls clamp around him, a low cry echoing in the dark. 

Amazingly, she doesn’t untangle herself from him, doesn’t blame the weed or the hour or tell him to put it out of his mind and never speak of it again.

Instead she kisses him slowly, arms around his neck, blowing sweet air across his face that tickles his nose.

“You wanna get more sounds out of me?”

He drops a kiss on her nose.

“I want to get _every_ sound out of you.”

It’s the closest he can get right now to saying he wants everything, with her, for the rest of his life.


	26. for me

She’s barely made it out of the shower before he attacks her, settles himself above her nearly naked form on the mattress.

“Harvey,” she whines while his lips tug on the towel to pry it loose.

“Donna,” he parrots back.

“We have the — thing,” she points out, voice ragged, though at this particular moment she’s not sure what the  _ thing _ is.

Harvey licks a stray bead of water from where it trickles down the side of her breast.

“Five minutes.”

An eyebrow arches.

“Fine. Ten minutes.”

Donna smirks, squeezing his ass. “There you go.”

“There I go,” he says roughly, stroking himself against her thigh, and her body jolts in anticipation.

She hums, contemplating, before replacing his hand with both of her own.

“Let me.”

Wide-eyed, mouth parted, droplets of water hugging his hips and his cock straining towards her, Donna is sure that there is nothing more beautiful.

Her thumb caresses the underside of his shaft, finding a pleasurable rhythm before making a fist and stroking up his full length.

(He likes that. She knows he likes that. She knows it drives him fucking insane.)

A heavy, exaggerated sigh leaves her lips. “I just got clean.”

“Guess —“ he sucks in a breath, nearly choking on air as she does that thing with her thumbnail, flicking right under the head. “Guess you’ll just have to shower again.”

She pretends to think it over. “In that case...”

Stretching languorously, she tilts her head back, hair fanning out from under her.

“Come,” Donna commands, and his cock throbs in her hand.

“You —“ He balks at her, still hazy from her dexterous fingers.

She sits up again to spit, saliva coating the tip and she swirls it there before gliding it over every inch, pumping hard.

Falling back on the bed, she releases his shaft to fondle his balls.

“Come.” She taps her lips with her forefinger, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “For me.”

His eyes are black and his cock shines in the low light, rigid and wanting and resting on his abdomen and he grips hard, pumps even harder and the slick sound of skin on skin sends her into oblivion.

Harvey’s strokes are short and fast, rubbing hard enough to chafe; he’s red and swollen and he’s biting his lip and the fingers from his other hand are digging into her scalp, and he’s so close —

“Come for me, Harvey.”

He spurts and it hits her lips, warm and silky, and her tongue darts out to taste before she’s hit again and again with his hot semen. It pools on her lips, her cheeks, and she smiles and blinks and scrunches up her nose at the sensation of it dripping down her chin.

Harvey rubs himself through the aftershocks, eyes roving across her face. She sits up on her knees to kiss the tip, takes it in her mouth to suck the last drops out of him.

“You’re not showering with me this time,” Donna tells him firmly as she pulls away, climbing off the mattress and padding towards the bathroom. “We really have to go.”

She glances over her shoulder only to be met with his dopey grin, sprawled out in all his manly glory, and she throws his pants at him.

“Get dressed.”

He starts to get up. “You sure you don’t need —“

“ _ Harvey _ .”

“Okay, okay.” He’s still smiling, the smug idiot, but she really,  _ really _ can’t blame him.

Even with that second shower, she can still taste him all night long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta’d, so my apologies - this came to me so quickly tonight. Also, thank you Isa (adarveystory) for the prompt, hope this does it justice!


	27. year two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy one year wedding anniversary to Donna and Harvey ❤️

Harvey wakes to kisses along his jaw, gentle yet firm and he grins without opening his eyes.

The first thing he does, every morning without fail, is cup his palm around her breast.

It’s not sexual; it’s comfort. It’s a _good morning, you’re here._

Donna smiles while his thumb circles her nipple, resting her forehead on his and blinking softly into his eyes.

They exchange Eskimo kisses, soft flutters of lashes on cheeks, whispered conversations laced in the patterns. Harvey settles into his spot on her neck, landing a flurry of kisses there before returning to cradle her face in his hands.

He wakes with a hard-on but now, like most mornings, he’s in no rush to take care of it. This is enough — Donna’s tongue tracing his teeth, noses bumping and eyes wide and relaxed.

She wrinkles her nose, pulls back and mutters, “breath,” before snuggling into his side. He chuckles, arm circling her shoulders and bending down to breathe obnoxiously in her face. Laughter bubbles from her throat as she pushes him away, buries her face in his chest while he grins.

Then her stomach rumbles, a light puff escaping and he can’t help but laugh into her hair.

“So ladylike,” he mocks.

Donna snickers. “That’s why you married me.”

“Oh, yeah,” he teases, pressing a wet kiss on her forehead.

“We actually have things to do today,” she warns as his lips continue to trail across her face.

“Yes,” he comments offhand. “This.”

Donna scoffs. “ _No_ , like grocery shopping. And cleaning. And cooking.”

“It’s not even noon.”

“You’re incorrigible.” She sinks back into the pillows against her will.

Harvey smirks. “I know.” His fingers thread through silky hair, tracing the shell of her ear, squeezing her thigh that’s draped across his hips before fitting one boob back in his palm. Donna sighs, nuzzling further into his neck.

“Year two,” she muses playfully. “Off to a great start.”

His wide grin catches in the sun.

“The best.”


	28. almost

Hands where they shouldn’t be, Harvey’s hot breath on the shell of her ear, bodies pressed intimately together under the guise of dancing — of course it was leading here. To Donna digging her nails into his shoulder as she nips at his jaw, lost in his dark, soulful gaze and the subtle pull of their tide.

To Harvey tapping low on her spine, dipping dangerously close to her asscheeks and her nipples straining against the thin fabric of her dress.

To Donna taking his hand in hers and leading him off the dance floor to the semi-private coat closet down the hall.

Biting at his pulse point, she sheds his jacket in one fluid motion and immediately goes for the tie; she gets it halfway undone before she gives up and goes for his belt instead.

She’s impatient, tugging on his tie to bring his lips to hers, panting into his mouth and squirming on his lap.

There’s no thinking tonight. If anything, it’s the memories of their last few weeks that flood her senses and propel her forward.

“Come on,” she breathes, lost in the beat of his pulse and the heat from his cock as she palms it over his slacks.

His own greedy hands push down her dress so he can cup both breasts, pads of his thumbs swiping furiously over her tight nipples. His left one lags, focusing on the prominent freckle on her right boob. She’d be agitated if it weren’t for his right hand making up for lost time. That one sneaks under her hemline to encounter nothing but bare flesh, and Harvey groans as he curls his fingers against her pussy.

Donna can _hear_ herself and she’s almost embarrassed, how wet she is when he’s barely undressed.

She decides to remedy that.

Freeing his aching member, she clasps the steel heat of him in her hand and buries to the hilt.

His buckle is digging uncomfortably into the back of her thigh, their heads are hidden in a line of coats, and she’s _so soaked_ he keeps sliding out of her, but there’s still a tingling sensation in her spine from their union, however unconventional it may be.

She comes in under a minute and he follows suit, drunk on pheromones and champagne and the kind of bittersweet sadness that comes with the noticeable passing of time.

He’s not saying anything. Donna feels the chill from the front door closing a few feet away, and suddenly the spell is broken.

“I should...go find Rachel.” Her voice is scratchy and foreign.

He clears his throat and helps lift her off his lap.

Donna straightens her dress on her way up to the bridal suite, and the front door closing behind her brings more than just a gust of wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been forever since I’ve been able to write... I have a bunch of ideas started, but nothing’s coming. This one fell out of me, I hope you enjoyed and thank you so much for reading ❤️


	29. name game

“Do you think I should name your breasts?”

Donna groans into the dark. “Please don’t. Harvey,” she runs her fingers through his hair in a feeble attempt to soothe him, “go to sleep now.”

He stumbled into their bedroom at 1:15 after a late night at the office — which had turned into celebratory drinks with Mike at their favorite bar down the street. Light flooded the room, momentarily blinding her and his “shhhhh, sorry,” and muffled curse as he stubbed his toe on the dresser had clued her in immediately as to his state of mind.

Now, he’s staring dopily at her, toying with a nipple through her nightgown and lost in precarious thought.

“We need to think of something good.” 

He’s  _ serious _ _._ She sighs resignedly, puffing out her cheeks.

“Harvey —“

“I’ve got it,” he announces, gleeful.

...And waits.

“You wanna hear it?”

Donna cringes. “Do I?”

“This one,” he continues without pause, “isJordan.” His fingers give it a squeeze before shifting to the right. “And this is Ewing.”

Donna sits up, incredulous.

“You are  _ not  _ naming my boobs after  _ basketball players _ _._ ”

He snickers, bouncing them in his hands. “They’re too big to be baseballs, Donna.”

“I’m going to sleep.”

“Donnaaaaaaa,” he whines, nuzzling his nose into her ear. “I just wanna show you what they mean to me,” he slurs.

“You already do that with actions, Harvey. They don’t need names.”

“...Really?” He sounds disheartened. But there is no way she’s letting this one slide.

“Really, really.” She finds his hand in the dark, threads their fingers together as she claims his lips. “Sleep now,” she mumbles into his mouth.

“Night, Donna,” he murmurs, resting his cheek on her shoulder. “Goodnight, boobs.”

He’s an idiot, she thinks with a smirk.  _ Her idiot. _


	30. feel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings/tags for this chapter include: anal rimming, ass play. Please proceed with caution.

Stretching along the couch, Donna hooks one leg over Harvey’s hip while he strokes himself, his abdomen flexing against her bare back and she shivers from the anticipation.

She is completely bared to him — he’s still in his suit from the top up, pants shed the second they walked through the door. Freckled skin tingles and nipples tighten while he positions his heavy dick at her entrance, sinking inside with a groan and a yank of her hair — just how she likes it — so he can suck on her neck, holding her leg captive under his arm.

The wet slap of their bodies molding together combined with the stark image makes her arch and curl her toes, breathless sounds escaping her lips.

“ _Fuckyou’resobigfuckfuckfuck_ , ” she hisses, reaching blindly behind to claw at his scalp and his hips move faster, filling her deeper and she’s acutely aware of the effect that string of words has on him.

Because  _ he is _ _._ And he’s angled in such a way that has him hitting her g-spot  _ just right _ , stretching her walls with his girth.

Watching his dick pump in and out of her, pussy spread and clit swollen has her trembling with hot need. The thicket of hair on his groin tickles her perineum and she moans at the sensation, limbs strung taut in pleasure.

He’s grunting quietly into her hair with each thrust, cock bright red and shining from her juices, and she clenches around him as he tugs her nipples raw.

Finally his thumb seeks her throbbing clit, dancing over the hood with tantalizing touches that launch her into oblivion. Then he’s coming inside her, warm and loose and he slides out to rub his shaft through her abused lips, his essence clinging to them both.

Harvey pulls back and grabs her waist, lifts her onto her knees in front of him. She’s weightless and floating and her internal muscles eagerly contract at the heady thought of  _ more . _

His lips circle her ear.

“I want,” he rumbles, voice deep and rich, “to lick your ass.”

Heat floods through her spine, down, down, down to her thighs that quake from his words.

“Oh,” she breathes, the sound caught in her throat.

“Is that okay?”

Fuck, she’s aroused. Intrigued. Wants to feel everything there is to feel with this man, the one she trusts more than anyone else in her life.

“I’m all yours.” Her ears are ringing and her skin is flaming but god damn him, now she wants this.

He shifts behind her, and she waits.

There’s a breathless moment where he plants kisses on the twin globes, pausing briefly to nibble at the juncture of her thighs. He kneads the soft flesh and she gulps down air as his big hands spread her cheeks apart.

One flutter of his tongue around her hole has her jerking her hips; it’s alarming and  _ different _ but holy  _ shit _ is she turned on. She tries to grind against his palm to soothe some of the ache, but he keeps his calloused hand just out of reach and she bites her cheek on a moan.

Thumbs digging into her glutes, he noisily kisses the puckered rim, and really, only Harvey could make her squirm from such a frivolous action. She can’t hold back her cry of relief when she feels the rapid flicks of his tongue, back and forth over the clenching muscle.

It takes her a moment to register that she’s  _ whining _ , actually whining — at this point, it’s well past a whimper, or even a strangled plea — reduced to a quivering mess against his mouth.

“Harvey,” she chokes, head spinning while he sucks between her cheeks.

He gives her cunt a squeeze, massaging the flesh and Donna grinds into his palm with abandon.

“Hold still,” he tells her, biting at her hip. She can only nod, too dizzy with desire to think straight.

The solid weight of his tongue on her asshole, the pressure he creates there in conjunction with the heel of his hand pressing on her clit is intoxicating. He suddenly switches his pattern — a circular motion, swirling around the tender muscle — and there it is, the avalanche, splitting her in half, pushing her over the brink.

She’s dully aware of Harvey cuddling her into his chest, stroking her arm and kissing her forehead and whispering how fucking hot she is. A giddy laugh bubbles up in her throat; she smacks his ass and tells him it’s her turn tomorrow, because fair’s fair.


	31. love me how

“Right... nnngghh, yeah,” Donna stutters, chest collapsing, “there.”

Her hand covers his larger one, hovering over her pubic bone and guiding his middle finger over her clit in the way she always envisioned he’d touch her. The same way she touched herself, clinging to the fantasy of Harvey’s two fingers dipping into her heat, sliding up her folds only to press on the hard nub and circle tightly.

And now —

Now, he’s doing just that, and she is committing every heightened touch, every delicious  _ snap  _ of her nerve endings to memory, simultaneously losing any semblance of control.

He pinches the bud between his thumb and forefinger, and she didn’t tell him to do that — she’s about to crack a joke but then he does it again and she jolts, cries out into the dark.

“What else do you like?” he mumbles into her hair, kissing the crown of her head.

She can’t believe she has to  _ think about it. _ Now that he’s here — physically, mentally, emotionally — she’s thrown into exhilarating turmoil, awareness lost in the long fingers trailing up her inner thigh.

“In,” she manages, panting heavily. “Two. Curl them.”

He obeys. Her knees lock and she whimpers, pushing her hips into his wrist.

“Who’s the whipped one?” He’s gloating, the bastard.

“Shut up,” she moans. “Fuck me harder.”

“Tell me.”

“Other hand. Lick your fingers and rub, hard.”

“Where?”

“You know where.”

“Say it, Donna.” His left palm splays across her stomach while the other cups her sex. She’s fucking out-of-her-mind horny and wet and if he’d just fucking  _ touch her, it doesn’t matter how — _

He extracts his fingers, finds her mouth and pushes past her teeth until she clamps around the digits, silky and salty from her arousal.

Donna bucks her hips, so far gone she could cry. “Rub my clit, Harvey. Circles, like I showed you before.”

“Lick,” he instructs, and she sucks on the pad of his thumb one more time before he does what she asked.

“You feel so good,” he whispers, throaty and heavy and it courses through her veins. “So wet and hot and I love watching you squirm.” He yanks his hand away to position his cock between her legs, slides it through her folds until the engorged head taps below her belly button.

“You see what you do to me?”

Donna cups his balls, squeezing playfully. “Impressive.”

“I am.”

“Someone’s full of himself.”

He bites the ridge of her ear. “Oh I’m full, all right.”

His hand returns to the juncture of her thighs, dick bobbing between them.

“What else?”

“Just...” Grabbing his wrist, she positions his slack fingers along the swollen lips of her center. “Stroke here, yeah... just lightly,” she sighs, stretches luxuriously against him. “Right here. In between, but mostly on the surfa— ohhhh, Harvey,  _ yeah _ _._ ”

It drives her wild, the tease of  _ almost-but-not-quite _ _,_ edges her closer and closer until she’s thrusting into his hand, craving more contact.

He pats her sex and she moans, loud, clit aching and muscles contracting in pleasure.

Then he sits up, slips out from under her and she claws at his arm in hazy desperation. She’s trying to find her voice when, in two seconds flat, he drives her legs up over her head as far as they can go and immediately descends on her pussy, tongue fucking in and out, the motion stimulating from this new angle. Donna pulls at his hair in ecstasy, and his lips close around her clit, sucking hard until she comes all over his chin, legs locked around his neck, hips spasming.

He hums against her dripping center until she quiets, strokes tenderly behind her kneecaps.

“Can you breathe?” she asks, genuinely concerned despite the visceral grip she retains on his head.

Harvey peels her thighs away from his face and grins, leaning forward to kiss a line across her collarbone. “Can you?”

She can’t even comment, just deflates with easy laughter.

“God,” she groans, flexing her toes.

“That how you imagined it?”

Donna reaches for him, settles him into the crook of her neck, savoring their sweaty stupor.

“Better.”


	32. you work for me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally, shamelessly inspired by the position they were in during this scene. And it really is the smallest of drabbles and I wanted to make it *fit better* but, here we are...

_ You got so upset when you thought I was working for him. _

_ Because you work for me. _

_Well, I’m not working for him._

* * *

She gives him an insufferable smirk, scoots forward on the couch while reiterating that very important fact. “I do work for you.”

He can see her swallow, feel her breath on his crotch and, well — fuck, yes, she does and  _ she knows it . _

So he fists her hair as she opens his pants and he not-so-gently shoves himself inside her welcoming mouth.

“Good girl.” The words are growled on an exhale, primal and carnal as she  _ works for him _ .

Her eyes meet his, shining with mirth and lustful longing, and it wipes all the air out of his lungs, this visual of Donna, lips around his cock, picturesque and blinding.

He loosens his grip on her scalp to tuck the mussed strands behind her ear. She slows, all traces of smugness gone. What’s left is something neither of them have a name for, not yet, but it’s something they’ve felt for a while now. It filters through the cracks, encapsulates them and suddenly his dick is left cold but her lips are on his, sucking on his tongue, guiding him back with her behind the bookcase so he can hike up her dress and have what they both  _ really _ want.


	33. bed rest

“Harvey,” Donna nearly whines, sitting up in bed with momentous effort, “take me outside.”

He sighs, bites the inside of his cheek and prepares for a fight. “Donna, what does ‘24-hour bed rest’ mean to you?”

“It means, ‘my husband is going to cater to my every whim.’”

“Ha, ha.”

“Harvey, please. I just want to sit outside.”

“You shouldn’t be walking.” It pains him to say no to her, it does, but he can’t bear the thought of risking anything about this pregnancy. He rounds the bed and sits, hoping to placate her. “I can open a window for you.”

Donna clasps his fingers in hers and smiles sweetly. “Harvey,” she purrs, and he’s almost fooled. Almost. Nine months with their little girl inside her and he _knows_ what that tone of voice means.

“You take me outside or I’m chopping your balls off.”

He would laugh if she wasn’t so damn serious.

“Donna. I can’t.” His voice breaks on the last word.

“Well,” she groans, stretches her arms over her head. “Then I guess we’re having sex.”

Harvey blinks at the sudden change of subject.

“Wait — what?”

“I can’t leave this bed, I’m horny, and we need something to do. Come on.” She nestles back against the pillows and unceremoniously spreads her legs. “Just give it to me.”

Harvey scoffs. “Yeah, _that’s_ romantic.”

Donna rolls her eyes. “Will you just get up here?”

He’s hesitant even as he straddles her, eyeing her bulbous stomach with worry.

“I don’t know, Donna. What if...”

His tentative demeanor doesn’t go unnoticed. “Harvey.” She cups his chin. “You are not going to hurt us. I promise.”

He fiddles absently with her earlobe, still not convinced.

“Hey.” Lithe hands caress his shoulders, arms wrapping around his neck. “I know. I’m scared, too. But there is nothing that says we can’t do _this_.” She pauses, pursing her lips. “Maybe she’ll recognize it, see how eager we are and just _pop_ right out.”

A chuckle escapes him. Donna smiles wider, stroking his brow.

“You could never hurt us,” she tells him solemnly, knowingly.

He catches her gaze and she nods with fervor. Then his knuckle dips between her swollen folds, letting molten heat escape and the pretty sigh she breathes out is enough for him to keep going.

He carefully draws the robe off her shoulders to expose her heavy breasts; they’re bigger than they’ve ever been and Donna’s were perfect to begin with, but he’s still a man and it _does things_ to him. They spill out of his hands and he caresses the soft flesh, her nipples poking against his palms.

Donna’s quiet grunts and tugs to his hair bring him back to reality, and he doesn’t quite know how long he spent lavishing her chest with attention - her breasts are bright red and oh, there’s a bite mark he’s sure will turn into a bruise. He grimaces, knowing how tender she is right now and hoping he didn’t overdo it.

He’s almost shocked at how hard he is, cock throbbing in her grip while she pumps with just enough pressure to drive him into oblivion. Donna is dripping, guiding him between her bent knees and god, she’s rubbing him on her clit and it feels so goddamn good that he seeks her entrance and plunges inside.

The moment is broken; the impact elicits a sharp gasp from Donna and he instantly recoils, burning with shame at the notion he’d hurt her after all.

“No no no no,” she breathes, turning his cheek back to face her from where he’d turned away, jaw locked and eyes blurry.

“Keep going. I’m fine. Please, Harvey, _fuck_...”

He cradles her face, kisses her warmly before trying again.

“Just —“ her breath hitches, removes his hands from their usual place on her breasts. “Not here. Hurts.” He nods, concentration evident in the furrow of his brow.

Donna guides his hips until she’s gasping for a different reason and then he allows himself to move again, tenderly and oh-so-slowly.

It feels fucking fantastic, her clenching around him and her hair fanned out under him and her stomach bumping his chest. He removes a hand from where he’s fisting the sheets and places it gingerly on her belly, feels their baby squirming around and it’s something entirely magical. They made life. And he can _feel it_ , beneath his fingertips while they’re joined in the most intimate way.

Her eyes shine and they’re wearing matching grins, she’s naked and sweaty and gorgeous, their hips grind and their legs lock and she comes undone first, surprisingly, gently and drawn out, eyes closed and mouth slack.

He follows as soon as she squeezes the hand that’s still cradling her stomach, and Harvey thinks this is the closest anyone can get to floating.


	34. about time

They make it into her bedroom, somehow, Harvey’s hot mouth trailing across her neck, up to her cheek and down by her ear where he sucks and bites. Donna chokes on a moan, tugs at his hair in an attempt to shift his focus from marking her face to getting her naked.

He gets the hint, holds her as she steps out of her pants, flinging them across the floor; she helps push his down, too, feels him rock-hard against her hand and whimpers, actually  _ whimpers _ . His lips still don’t leave her face, not even when she tries to get her camisole over her head, so she lets him take over, which, God, is what she’s been waiting for all these years.

And this time, he does. Harvey’s in control, in her bedroom, and  _ fuck _ if she’s not ready.

The flimsy silk is dragged down her shoulders along with her bra, the wire cups digging uncomfortably into her ribs, but she hardly cares once his lips close around her naked nipple. It’s wet and warm and just what she likes; but right now it’s not what she needs, so she gingerly pries his head up to kiss him fully, wrapping a leg around his hips.

He propels them backward, she hits the wall with a thud and her lamp rattles while he grinds against her, panting and pining and petting her curves. She lifts her hips to wiggle out of her panties, then shoves his boxers down — because he’s too distracted, too fixated on the newly bared skin by her waist and okay, she can’t blame him, because suddenly he’s _ there  _ in front of her after thirteen years, just as big as she remembers and she’s actually dripping down her thighs, now — and finally, finally, skin meets skin in the most intimate way and she shivers, he groans, and he pushes inside her, takes her against the wall.

He barely stops to adjust, moves slowly at first, burying deep so his belly brushes hers, all the way in and all the way out. Her nails claw at his back, thighs burning, heart pounding, and then he’s pumping so hard her bedroom shakes along with her brain and her own desperate cries echo in her ears.


	35. mishaps II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by Elle (mieh) - was supposed to be one sentence, but I couldn’t help it

Her dress is gone, she’s on her knees in front of him in nothing but her wedding ring and it’s something else entirely. That hand is currently massaging his length through his boxer briefs, the other giving his ass a hearty squeeze before dipping lower, down towards his balls and Harvey sees stars —

— until suddenly he’s yanked forward, his groin snaps against the bone of her wrist and he’s seeing stars for an entirely different reason.

“ _ Sweetjesusfuck! _ ” he wheezes, wildly gripping at her hair to steady himself.

Donna gasps. “Harvey, I’m sorry!”

“What the fuck happened?” His knees drop to the carpet, head spinning.

Donna doesn’t answer, and he thinks maybe he’s blacking out until he hears that trademark snort, her body shaking beneath him.

“It’s not fucking funny,” he chokes out, hunched over on the floor. This only amplifies her giggles.

“My ring — my ring is stuck.” She wiggles her fingers, still attached to his tender, and now limp, dick.

“Well, get it off,” he grumbles, annoyed at the unfortunate turn their wedding night has taken.

She gives a tug and he jumps, covering himself in self-preservation.

“Stop pulling it!”

Donna huffs. “Will you hold still? It’s caught in the stitching.”

“Just...careful,” he warns through his teeth.

She gives him a look that says  _ aren’t I always? _ He points to his crotch.  _ Exhibit A. _

Finally she manages to extract the stone, and she bends down next to him, rubs his shoulder sympathetically.

“Harvey. I really am sorry.”

He squeezes her hand. “I know you are. ‘S not your fault.”

“Want some ice?” She’s still laughing, lips pressed in a thin line and cheeks flushed, and this time he joins her, because it’s really fucking ridiculous and entirely, completely _them_.

She pats his thigh before standing up, stalks naked towards the kitchen. “Coming right up.”

“Thank you. And I want some special treatment,” he shouts at her across the room.

Donna turns with a wink. “We’ll see what we can come up with.”


	36. through the phone

It’s late, past midnight on a Wednesday when she does it.

She’s been turned on for three days straight, ever since Harvey let it slip that he masturbates to memories of her. To that time they vowed to put out of their minds for good; evidently, she wasn’t the only one to renege on their promise.

And, well. If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed...

Before she has time to change her mind, Donna pops open the buttons on her pajama top, slides her hand inside to cup a breast and the camera clicks, capturing the valley of her cleavage.

It’s not flattering in the least.

She frowns, tries again. This time, the angle is higher, but her concentrated face is in the shot and that is decidedly  _ not _ sexy.

Eventually she finds the sweet spot — bends one knee and snaps the picture from the tops of her breasts down, catching a glimpse of black lace panties.

He calls her. Video. She picks up on the first ring with bated breath.

“Too much?”

“Not enough,” he groans, and the sound sends shockwaves to her core.

They’re doing this.

Fucking  _ finally . _

“Hmmm.” She tries for coy, but it’s in vain as her thighs rub together, eyes closed and teeth biting hard on her lower lip.

“Show me.” His voice is sandpaper, scratching all the right places.

She manages to flip the camera while quickly discarding her panties, granting him a view of nimble fingers dipping between her folds, slick and sliding all around. His heavy breath tickles her even through the phone.

“Open.”

One word. Authoritative, dominant. But Donna knows exactly what he wants, readily gives herself over to the command.

Freckled knees fall, hips protruding outward until her pink slit separates, exposing the wet, cherry-red flesh within. She uses her thumb and middle finger to spread her outer lips even further apart, her needy clit now on full display.

“Don’t touch yet. Just let me look.”

Her chest constricts at the same time her clit pulses. Harvey’s face contorts in pleasure and she just  _ knows _ he’s got his dick in his hand, and if she could find her voice she’d ask to see him, too, but all that comes out is a strangled moan.

“Holy fuck,” he grunts, accompanied with the crude slapping of skin as he tugs on his cock, and it nearly sends her over the edge. “Just wanna taste you,” he continues, and that’s it for her; done holding out, she cries his name, shoving two fingers deep in her cunt.

“That’s it, fuck your pretty pussy for me. Fuck, Donna.”

She can barely think straight, let alone hold the camera upright, but she doubts he even cares judging from the labored panting over the line. She has half a mind to ask him to resume his filthy narrative but she doesn’t get that far; one last, breathless “Donna” near her ear causes her orgasm to ripple under her skin, tremor after tremor pulsing through her veins.

Stilled into silence, she waits, listens to the familiar sounds of his release while sweat cools on her skin.

“Still there?” he asks, sounding like the wind was knocked out of him. She can’t help the smile that curls her toes.

“Still here.”

“Good.”

It’s said with such sincerity, laced with promise and potential, that Donna  _ knows _ they won’t bury this time with their first.

An hour later, he knocks on her door and his bruising kiss shares the same sentiment.


	37. show me yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Miriam’s tweet: https://twitter.com/miriamdarvey/status/1351291320069971968?s=21  
> Just a little something :)

He didn’t really register it, that first night or the next, in the dim light and the fog of lust that permeated the room (and his brain).

But now, it’s Saturday — their very first — and the sun streams in through his window walls, accentuating her every curve and every freckle and the unmistakeable music note on the swell of her ass.

If memory serves — and it usually does, given that he thought about her almost every night since  _ the other time _ — she did not have that twelve years ago.

He taps it with his finger, curious and a little turned on, feels his cock stir against his thigh. “When did you get this?”

Donna lifts her head, cranes her neck to see what he’s talking about — it’s early and her brain is still blinking awake — and then she turns red, which surprises him, because he’s never known her to be apologetic about her body.

“Year two at the firm. Too much to drink and the bartender was a part-time tattoo artist.”

Harvey raises his eyebrows. “And why were you showing the barman your ass?”

“Free drinks for a flash.” Donna laughs into her pillow at his stunned face. “Kidding. We hit it off and started making out in the back.” She grimaces. “ _ Also  _ where he set up his tattoo shop.”

“Ouch.”

“ _ Ouch _ is right. It was infected for a month.” She squirms while Harvey’s thumb circles the surrounding area.

His voice scratches in his throat. “Well, I like it.”

Donna snorts. “Good, because it’s not going anywhere.”

He drops a kiss to her tailbone and she shivers.

“Music.”

She smiles dreamily. “Yeah.”

“You didn’t want a strawberry?” His eyes gleam as his tongue snakes out to flick the ink.

“No,” she states with certainty. Harvey lifts her hips off the mattress with minimal effort, and she buries her nose in his pillow with a languid sigh. “Didn’t want the memory if I couldn’t have reality.”


	38. would it be enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the devil’s in the details, but you’ve got a friend in me  
> would it be enough, if i could never give you peace?  
> — taylor swift

He’s harried and exhausted, Mike’s impending trial casting a dark cloud even in the clear night. Donna sits beside him and they’re sharing comfort, nursing scotch, diving through the past five years of  _ Pearson Specter Litt _ records in search of anything opposing counsel might use to bite them in the ass.

His arm brushes hers every time he sips his drink and it’s electric, pulse thrumming, and his weary bones ache to bury themselves in her touch. And it’s not fair, he thinks, that her dress is hardly encasing her breasts — and really, if she didn’t want him to look, why wear the damn thing?

He remembers the other dress, the other time she came back to him. How she bounced and swayed and he couldn’t leave his desk for a full two hours.

If possible, this one is even better, less open but more enticing — he’d always preferred leaving a little to the imagination — her tits pushed up towards his face, deliciously tight.

As though she can sense his eyes on her, she wets her lips, steadies a hand on his thigh and she must feel how tense he is, muscles clenching under her palm. From arousal or stress or the combination of both, he doesn’t know.

In a flash she kneels in front of him and his legs spread to accommodate her of their own accord. They don’t say a word, but their eyes say enough — pupils black as night and zeroed in on each other. It’s enough to know that she is doing this _ for him _ and not  _for them_ , and he wants the  _ them _ but he also knows the last time he tried, he burned them both, and so he allows her take the reigns tonight.

Gentle fingers undo his pants, draw down the zipper and pull him out of his boxer briefs, working him up to full mast before maneuvering him between her breasts, coating her in his essence. The tip sinks into the snug valley of her cleavage and he hisses, shamelessly ruts against her chest for more friction. Just when he can’t take it anymore, pulsing in her hand while he seeks her waiting lips, she frees both breasts and fucks him between the globes, holds him there, ducks down to swallow the head in her hot mouth.

And he’s coming, not even three full strokes between her, manages to swipe his thumbs across her taut nipples while his hips buck towards her face and his semen drips off her chin.

There isn’t much he can do besides fall back against the worn leather, deflated, confused, satisfied but yearning for more. He doesn’t do more than stare while she wipes her chin with the back of her hand, tucks him back in his pants and takes both their empty glasses to the cart, dress wrinkled, hair disheveled.

He’s still blinking stupidly when she turns around, and he sits up, clears his throat and offers a gruff “thank you.”

Donna tilts her head with a small smirk, eyes swimming with genuine affection and guilt punches in his gut, because she gives him  _ everything _ and what exactly does he give her?

But she kisses his forehead, tells him to go home, get some sleep, she’ll see him tomorrow. There’s no longing in her gaze, not that he can decipher — just an underwhelming resolution, acceptance, peace. Peace with herself, with them, he doesn’t know.

He wonders what it all means.


	39. of intimacy

Harvey discovers, quite early on, that there is a different sort of intimacy in marriage.

Intimacy has always been a facet of his relationship with Donna; it’s unwavering trust in each other, habits and patterns and body language memorized and tucked away as precious, laden in what they say and what they don’t.

Only now, it’s evolved, extending into this new chapter of their lives and blending into the  _ physical _ .

It’s a subtle shift — no drastic, life-altering realizations. He just... notices. The simple things become sublime.

Like today. They’re showering together; he’s mostly flaccid, her nipples are soft, and she spikes the shampoo in his hair, snickering before she returns to her own soapy locks.

It’s less sex, and more actual  _ bathing _ .

More about the closeness.

Harvey worries, at first, that there’s something wrong with him, that he’s this...  _ unaffected _ by Donna in such close proximity, and at such an early stage. But it’s not a lack of desire — it’s comfort. He’s content. Content to bask in their lazy mornings and easy nights.

It’s not something he’s ever felt with anyone else.

She’s completely naked wiping down the shower, breasts bobbing as she reaches for the top tiles; he’s brushing his teeth with a towel slung over his hips and they’re talking about which files he needs for the deposition today, making jabs at opposing counsel while he laughs around a mouthful of toothpaste.

And it’s so...natural. Like they’ve been doing this for years.

(Even the naked part.)

He’s struck, sometimes, how easily they fell into their routines as a couple. How quickly the barriers of privacy were stripped, replaced by a pleasant familiarity and mundanity.

Donna hangs the towel, bumps her hip playfully into his and kisses the corner of his wet mouth. “Minty.”

“Thank you.” He spits.

“Hand me my toothbrush?”

He complies, squirts a generous amount of toothpaste for her before shifting to the toilet to relieve his bladder, towel dropping unceremoniously to the floor.

Donna doesn’t even blink.

It was another thing that shocked him, at first — one morning he was shaving and the next thing he knew, Donna had plopped herself down on the toilet and started to pee.

He hastily shouted an apology and turned away. She rolled her eyes, told him to grow up and that he’d missed a spot near his chin.

“I promised Rach I’d get lunch with her today,” Donna informs him after he flushes.

“What am I supposed to do?” he jokes, dropping a kiss on her shoulder as he washes his hands.

“Take me to breakfast.” Her grin is infectious.

“Breakfast in bed?” he replies, feeling cheeky.

Her bare arms wrap around his neck, warm lips meeting his in a chaste kiss. “What are we having?”

And, yeah — it’s still sometimes about the sex.

“You.”


	40. get a room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’s a little silly and a little different. Line at the end is courtesy of Sir Patrick J. Adams.

It’s barely 7 o’clock on a Saturday when Mike gets the call.

The relentless ringing rouses him from sleep and he leans over Rachel to grab the device, already annoyed.

“Hello?”

“407?” An angry voice barks, and Mike yanks the phone away sharply, frowning.

“Sorry?”

“Apartment 407?”

Mike scratches his head. It takes a minute for the words to reach his brain.

“Uh, yes, but I think you —“

“Next time you want to fuck your girlfriend in plain sight, close the goddamn door.”

The line clicks.

“Who’s that?” Rachel groans, tossing an arm over her head.

Mike stares at the screen, stupefied. “Someone from our old apartment.”

“The new tenant?”

It’s this groggy comment that shines light on the man’s complaint, and Mike’s face breaks out into a grin.

“One second.” He’s already dialing Harvey.

———

Harvey answers on the third ring, unsurprisingly chipper.

Mike is blunt. “Here’s a question.”

“Nice to hear from you, too.” Harvey bites into his bagel, lounging on the couch while he waits for Donna to get out of the shower.

“You sold my apartment, right?”

Harvey’s chewing slows considerably.

“Yeah.” He balls up his tinfoil and shoots it into the trash.

“Funny, because I just got a complaint from my neighbor.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I’ll pass it along, so you can let the new tenant know, alright?”

“Sure. Shoot.”

Mike clears his throat. “‘The next time you wanna fuck your girlfriend in plain sight, close the goddamn door.’”

Harvey splutters, grappling for words.

“When I said ‘get a room,’ I meant your own,” Mike jabs before hanging up, huge smirk plastered on his face.

Yeah, he’ll never let Harvey live this down.


End file.
